The Fine and the Coarse
Rub your finger over life
And feel the texture and the grit of it.
Life can lift no finger, but it senses
That which touches it as smooth and fine.
Both long for, yet fear, union,
Shrink back at the touch
Unless some conjury of music, word, or will,
Or natures course, shall make them stay
And consummate their procreative ecstasy
In which both perish
To become that precious thing
Toward which Creation sacrificed its holy emptiness
By Richard Hodges
Thursday Mar 13 2014, 4 AM